Bluebell Dixon Poet I do not know?

What Is Black

What is "black"?
What does that mean?
When did I become a crayon?
God made man a living soul,
and in a skin He clothed the man.
When did my wrapper come to be
the most important part of me?

How does "black" think?
What does it do?
What music does "black" listen to?
What is "black"'s prescribed religion?
What are its culture and traditions?
Who but me, myself, and I
decides how I identify?

Yes, I am brown;
it's just my color---
no worse or better than peach or tan.
It's not my mind; it's not my heart;
it's only a piece of what I am.
"Black" doesn't bring me special pride;
it doesn't tell you what's inside.

I'm not a unit
of a race.
I'm not a color; I am me---
free to think and live and love
as the person God made ME to be.

"Black" is a shade of humanity;
it isn't an identity.

♡Like0

Share Poem

---

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment